Bumper? I hardly know her!

It was with some trepidation I first handed over my car keys to Ms. Shilly Ash.

All told, she did learn to drive in Delhi. A Delhi driver in a Bolero can best be likened to a medieval battering ram. The kinds that William Wallace used to bring down the gates of York.

I needn't have feared, though. Contrary to all stereotypes involving women and Delhi, Ms. Shilly Ash is an excellent driver. All control and concentration, smooth handling and safe speeds.

Anyway, in an unrelated incident, a luggage auto had nearly ripped the front bumper off the Bolero, when the Bolero was parked no less. Insurance grudgingly paid for a new bumper, and we were car-less till the mechanic got the vehicle ready.

On D-Day, the missus and I headed to the mechanic's on a bike. She drove the car back, spanky new bumper and all. Being relatively new to Bangalore, she was still unfamiliar with the route, so I went ahead and she followed me.

A little too closely.

At a signal, I gently ease the bike to a standstill, all set to wait for the lights to turn green. Quite unexpectedly, I receive what is best described as a swift kick in the rear.

I turn around and am nose to hood with Wallace's battering ram, with the aforementioned spanky new front bumper positioned roughly where my bike's tail-lamp assembly ought to have been.

No words were exchanged. I just stared at her, speechless, while she just stared at me, aghast and contrite.

How's that for romance?!

'Twas a nice, quiet evening. Ms. Shilly Ash was feeling particularly benevolent and, in a moment of weakness, decided to shower affection on Mr. Shilly Ash. So she sat him down, and just snuggled up.
The change of expression on Mr. Shilly Ash's face was encouraging.

She continued... whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

There was a twitch on the mister's face - ah!, she thought, the magic is working.

Mr. Shilly Ash leaned over to say something in her ear.

With great anticipation, she moved her hair away from her ear. Baby, said Mr. Shilly Ash.

Ya, honey? she replied - she was all for encouragement.

Then came the magic words....




"I need to go to the loo"!

That's some crunchy paneer!

Ms. ShillyAsh has a propensity to break things.

Now, in itself, that's not a bad thing. Lots of folk are clumsy, and it would hardly do to hold it against them. Sometimes even the most athletic ones cannot handle Bone China. I'm sure there are NSG commandos who've broken their share of glassware.

That said, it would be prudent to lock up the crystal cupboard in her vicinity. Anyway, it isn't her propensity to break things that's under the scope here, but her efforts at making amends after. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ms. ShillyAsh also has a predilection for Paneer-based dishes.

Again, in itself, that is hardly note-worthy. Plenty of people love paneer. It is a very popular ingredient in many Indian curries.

Now, Ms. ShillyAsh had made a big bowlful of Shahi Paneer for dinner, and put the leftover in the fridge. The next day, she takes the heavy glass bowl out of the fridge, and sticks it in the microwave.

A few seconds later, a very distinct "CRACK!" is heard from the microwave.She rushes, but it's too late. The bowl has broken, and the top half of the bowl comes away as a ring. Quite a clean break.

Would it had not been so clean! Ms. ShillyAsh declares the paneer perfectly edible.

"Hey, it was a clean break, right ?"
"How can there be splinters of glass ?"
"I am definitely not going to throw away perfectly good Paneer just because..."
"I won't hear of it".
"Admit it, you just didn't like the Paneer in the first place."

It took the combined efforts of me, her father, her mother, an entire regiment of the NSG and three rogue elephants to pry the Paneer away from her. I emptied the remnants of the bowl, paneer and all in a large plastic bag and quickly threw it into the dumpster, while listening to her mutter about "waste of good food" and "starving Ethiopians".

She rues the lost Paneer to this day.

Oh, and I may have overstated the role of the elephants and the NSG.

Mr. Shilly Ash to the rescue!

5.30pm on a Sunday evening, Mr. and Ms. Shilly Ash stepped out of the house. What was supposed to be a mundane grocery buying trip, turned out to be quite an adventure for as soon as they left the building, they realized that they'd locked themselves out. Now normally Mr. Shilly Ash is very careful, to the point of being paranoid (for which he is also scorned at by Ms. Shilly Ash), of not locking the door till the key is in his hand. Guess that day was just an error of judgement.

Being locked out with all the spare keys located safely inside the house posed quite a predicament. They approached various avenues for help, none of which yielded any result. That's when Mr. Shilly Ash had a brainwave. He would climb into the balcony of the house (luckily the window had been left open) from the balcony above and then enter the house. Dangerous as it sounded, Ms. Shilly Ash agreed there was no other choice.

So they made their way to the house, and balcony, above. They surveyed the area and saw different things - he saw an easy jump, she saw a free fall. With great trepidation, she watched the mister lower himself. He somehow managed to find the right holds. She waited with bated breath, not letting the agony show when he disappeared from her vision, till the time his voice announced a safe landing.

While Mr. Shilly Ash got inside the house using the open window, she ran to give him a hero's welcome. He was her hero! who had saved the day and how! Planning the myriad different ways in which she would greet him, she saw the mister wearing a sheepish smile.

The key was hanging on the door.... outside!

Straight hair... at the beach ?

It's 11 at night, and we have to be up in less than 5 hours to catch a flight. We're off to the beach!

We're off to Goa for an all too brief, four day vacation. We had no plans, no agenda. Just laze, eat, and soak up the sun. Bookings have been made, swimsuits and sunscreen have been packed, cab has been called for, and we're all set.

Well, except for Ms. Shilly-ash, who chooses just that moment to... (hold breath)... straighten her hair. She spends nearly half of the 5 hours of sleep we've afforded ourselves, laboriously ironing her locks.

Alright, I'll let that pass. She does want to look her best for the beach, an acceptable wish.

But of course, in less than twelve hours, at 10:15 AM to be precise, we are playing in the water off Baga beach. And the salt water has reduced her diligently directed coiffure to a knotty mane.

Was it worth literally losing sleep over, I ask. "Well, at least it looked great on the flight.", she says.

I'm speechless.

Hindi Movies

Mr. Shilly Ash is a snob… well, at least when it comes to hindi movies!

It so happened that in his younger days, Mr. Shillyash used to watch hindi movies right, left, and centre without any discretion as to what to watch. As a result, he ended up watching some, ahem, ‘interesting’ movies because of which he vowed never to see hindi movies again.

Then, he met me and realized that I am a big fan. (The difference of course, is that I use some discretion!).

In the course of our relationship, he sat through all the movies that I recommended as must-watch, but the paradigm still exists.

How does one fight this paradigm? How does one explain that beyond the apparent idiocy, there exists a world that is intelligent, sensitive, thought-provoking, and sometimes... just entertaining.

Dear God, how do I highlight the unfairness of the paradigm that after watching an unbearable English movie which might have been recommended by 'credible' sources makes him say "this is just like a Hindi movie”.

Horror Movies

Ms. Shilly Ash hates horror movies!

All of them, from the classics (nightmare on elm street) through the campy (wrong turn) right up to the new-age slasher (saw).

How does one quantize the entertainment value of gobs of red stuff, screams, and monsters with face-masks? How can I put a price on the exhilarating thrill combined with feelings of revulsion that arise in the viewer? And how, oh dear God, how do I imbibe in somebody a love of the bizzare, occult and gruesome ?

OK, so we don't watch as many movies any more, and have a huge backlog of titles in the TBD list, but I do wish we didn't have an entire genre taboo!